Red
by haruu-ssi
Summary: After Lance is injured on a mission, he and Keith must undergo a series of mishaps and adventures on various worlds as they wait for the Castle of Lions. Before they are through, however, their relationship may grow to be beyond that of friends who have shared the Red Lion as a companion.
1. Chapter I: A Battle in the Hangar

"Get down!"

Lance hit the floor, hard, rolling onto his left side. His armor dug into his joint, binding his arm achingly underneath him.

His sword clattered to the ground right beside him. Shaking his head, he grabbed it and maneuvered himself behind a large, metal crate.

He clutched his left shoulder, wincing in pain. He pulled his hand away and looked at his glove, now stained with thick, crimson blood.

 _Damn it._

The sound of further gunshots turned his attention away from his wound. Still clutching his shoulder, he turned to look around the edge of the crate.

Surrounding him was a tall, cavernous hangar, made entirely out of brightly shined metals that reflected the sensuous violet from the lights. Smothered ships and fizzling control panels dotted the floor, littered with the countless limbs and microprocessors of mindless (dead) drones. Thick, chrome beams supported the room on three sides. The fourth wall was taken over by a gaping hole.

It was shredded and ripped like an old envelope, curling and twisting in a dangerous and malicious fashion. Black char choked the edges of the material, slowly creeping its way further up the walls like the veins of a plague. Smoke curled from the remnants, breathing heavily in the wake of the current destruction. The black sky outside was littered with the broken bones of drones and weapons, resembling the forgotten graveyards of murders and martyrs. The stars shone brightly and maniacally, luring those in who were expecting beauty and trapping them in ice.

It was a good thing that the air seal in the hangar had been activated by one of the drones. Otherwise, every single one of them would be space garbage right now.

Lance's eyebrows burrowed high into his tan forehead. He blinked, surveying the damage that they… okay, not they, _he_ , had done.

 _Whoops_ , Lance thought.

A scream radiated from behind him, piercing through the painful fog in his head.

"Aghhhhhhhhh!"

Lance, alarmed, shifted his weight to his right side. Biting his lip, he pushed himself up, quickly throwing his arms up to rest on top of the crate in order to support himself. He wiggled his sword into his right hand, clutching the hilt tightly. In an instant, without intention, the sword disappeared, a cerulean flash blinding Lance for a moment. When his eyes cleared, the sword had turned into a long barreled handgun, sleek and elegant. Big enough to land a decent shot against one of those Galra bastards, but still small enough that he could shoot it with only one hand.

Perfect.

He kept low, observing the scene, waiting for the right moment to shoot

Another scream pierced the air, more with an air of frustration than pain this time.

A tall, lean figure quickly dodged the malevolent blade of the broadsword that had, moments before, been inches away from his neck. He landed crouched on his knees, facing the stranger who had almost beheaded him. Some Galra general, intent on rising up and gaining power within the Empire and being able to, one day, serve the holy Lord Zarkon himself. And the only way to do this, one might ask? Why, killing the Paladins of Voltron and stealing their lions, of course.

The usual bullshit.

The general growled something at the boy, incomprehensible from where Lance was hiding. The boy glared at him, baring his sharp, white teeth. His right arm flew out behind him while his left hand planted itself on the ground, preparing to lunge. The hand behind him held a thin black knife, about two feet long, Glowing symbols curled around the blade and hilt, shifting colour and shape with the movement of the light. It was perfectly balanced in the boy's hand, curling beneath his fingers in a way so intimate it was like he had been born with the blade in his arms.

The boy breathed. His ebony hair fell mischievously into his eyes, but instead of taking a moment to brush it away, he lunged at the general, swinging his blade in a wide, sloping arc. Gunshots rained around him from the remaining drones as he leapt into the air.

He slammed with his full figure into the Galra general's chest. In one quick moment, the boy slammed the flat of the thick, charcoal coloured blade into the general's skull. A crack muttered through the chamber, whispering its pain through the broken fissures in the ceiling and the wall and the floor. The general careened backwards, collapsing to the ground with a large thump.

The boy untangled himself from atop the general's body, bringing himself up to his full height. His violet eyes scanned him, piercing right through his flesh. He bent over, plucking a small, flat disc from the general's belt.

 _The hard drive_ , Lance realized, leaning back in admiration _. He actually got it._

Silence only lasted for a moment as the drones realized what had happened to their leader. They broke out of their daze, turning their guns onto the boy. Their chromium, faceless masks glowed red with the reflection of his armour. Their skeletal, spindly fingers wrapped around the triggers of their rifles, ready to fire. The boy looked at them indignantly, clenching his sharp jaw and furrowing his dark, angular eyebrows. He raised his blade.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._

The shots rang out, echoing loudly through the chamber. The drones went rigid for a moment, then fell to the earth, clattering noisily as they went.

Lance exhaled and lowered his arm, smoke still curling off the barrel of the gun. A flash stung the air, and the gun disappeared, letting Lance's bayard return to its normal shape: a crescent moon, perfectly fitted to the gloves that masked Lance's hands whenever he wore his paladin armour.

Lance stood up to his full height, attaching his bayard to his belt as he did so. He winced, bringing his opposite hand to his shoulder again. He removed himself from behind the crate and walked over to where the other boy was standing, sheathing his blade.

"Keith! Well done, man!" Lance said. He cocked his hip to one side, folding inward on himself slightly as to reconstitute to his normal posture. "That was awesome. Total fucking badass."

"Thanks," Keith said. He smirked slightly, sending his gaze up towards Lance. He crossed his arms, and his gaze suddenly became more stern.

"Where were you, though? I had to handle that guy all by myself. Not that I'm complaining. But still. This is supposed to be a team mission, remember?"

Lance blushed, fidgeting nervously. He had a couple inches on the boy, but Keith could still be really fucking scary if he wanted to be.

"Well, um, I, uh, I… knew you could handle it! Yeah, that's right! I thought I would give you a chance to prove your, uh… badassery, or whatever, while I covered you from over there." He tried to gesture towards the crate, but a searing, thick pain shot right through his left shoulder. He winced sharply, then tried to hide it. But Keith had noticed. His expression softened, shifting from serious to concerned.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Keith stepped closer, narrowing his eyes up at Lance.

"Oh, nothing. I'm…" The pain came back, hot and sticky this time, causing Lance to double over. Spots danced in front of his eyes, straining his irises.

"Whoa, there," Keith said. He caught Lance as he fell, grabbing onto his right shoulder. Lance leaned into him, groaning.

"I'm… fine," he muttered, still doubled over. His helmet fogged up with his breath, misty and hot.

"Uh huh. It seems like you broke something. You're in shock," Keith said. "Come here."

He looped his arm around Lance's waist, crossing his other arm across the boy's chest in order to support the other side of his body. Even though Keith was tall, he still had trouble supporting Lance.

 _Why do you have to be so fucking long and gangly?_ he thought. _I mean, seriously. You can't even stand up without leaning over. You're a fucking beanpole._

"Do you think you have enough strength to call Red?" Keith asked Lance. Lance looked up into his face, his expression blurry through his helmet. He nodded slightly, and then closed his eyes.

Keith heard Red before he saw her. The whirling of the engines, the faint hiss of the thrusters, the deep clicking and twisting of her joints and limbs. She glided gracefully through the giant hole that had been ripped through the side of the hangar, beautifully giant and menacing.

Her crimson armor was scratched and weathered, and her parts were old (10,000 years old, to be precise), but she was not to be underestimated. If someone hurt someone she cared about, she would be a force to be reckoned with.

Keith smiled, looking up at the lion that he had formerly piloted. Since the mission that he and Lance had been assigned with taking care of was so simple (steal the information held at the hanger regarding the Balmeras and where the Galra were specifically mining for crystals), it had been decided that only one lion was needed to take care of business. Although two lions probably would have been helpful (they may have underestimated the number of Galra drones that had been stationed at the hangar), Keith had to admit that it had been nice spending some time with Red. He had missed her.

The robotic lion landed firmly in the hangar. She bent her front legs, sticking her back into the air, and opened her large mechanical maw. Keith readjusted Lance in his arms. The boy was barely coherent by now: the pain must have been pretty severe. Could've been multiple fractures. _Jesus Christ, Lance_ , Keith thought, shaking his head. _You can't just bruise or sprain things like normal people, can you?_

Dragging Lance along with him, Keith limped along towards the open maw of the lion, stumbling in just as the monstrous teeth snapped together behind them.


	2. Chapter II: First Aid

"This is Keith to the Castle of Lions. Does anybody read me?"

Keith paused, leaning back in the pilot's chair.

No response.

He pressed down the transmitter again, feeling the cold metal beneath his thumb.

"Repeat: this is Keith to the Castle of Lions. Is anybody there?"

Static crinkled into Keith's ears, making the cockpit throb. Still no answer. He sighed, staring straight ahead of him into the deep ebony of space. Stars glittered, casting translucent glances towards each other. They lit up the cockpit, making the maroon lighting shimmer like it had been dusted with ivory.

Keith looked around at the cockpit he had once known so well. It was smaller than the black lion's, but much more familiar. Control panels encased him in a half circle, the buttons and levers awash in crimson and scarlet. He was never more than an arm's reach away from any mechanism he might need. The soft thrum of the engines whispered beneath his feet, making them mutter in his boots. Normally, lions didn't respond to anyone other than the pilot that they had chosen. But it seemed Red had made Keith temporarily exempt from this rule. After he had put Lance in the cabin, he had come up here, and the controls had responded. Maybe it was because Keith had piloted Red before. He wasn't sure. But he knew that she missed Lance. Her movements were not as energetic as they had been when he had been piloting her before he got injured. Keith tried to reassure her with his thoughts, but it was hard, for he was worrying too. Lance had still been conscious when Keith had dragged him to his bed, but only barely. He passed out the moment that his head hit the pillow, dazed from the pain. Keith had checked on him twice in the last hour, but he was still out cold.

He inhaled. Beneath the coppery, metallic smell of the small control center, he could still smell the other boy: a mix of mahogany and oranges and freshly picked parsley.

Suddenly, an image flashed across the windshield in front of him. A man's face appeared, causing the black outside to disappear. He was tall and muscular, with pale skin that glowed blue in the faint light. His chin was angular and stern, but his grey slanted eyes twinkled with forgotten laughter. He had dark cropped hair that had been shaved to a shadow on the sides on his head. His bangs, coloured a deep white from an unknown trauma, hung thickly across his forehead, not quite long enough to hide the thin, angular scar that stretched across the bridge of his nose. The man spoke, trying to make himself heard above the screech of voices behind him.

"Keith!"

"Hey, Shiro," Keith responded, startled by the noise emanating from the video screen. "What's going on there?"

"Oh, yeah," Shiro said, a look of indifference crossing his face. He waved his hand dismissively. "Pidge and Hunk were having an argument about colour-coding, and Allura didn't know what it was, which sent Pidge through the roof. Now she's on this rant about how Alteans are uncultured or something like that."

"Oh, um… wow. That sounds… fun," Keith said, grimacing.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Shiro said, sighing and looking to the ground. He ran a hand through his bangs, then turned his gaze back towards Keith. "So, how'd the mission go? Where's Lance?"

"Well, we got the hard drive. All the data's on there, just like our informant said it would be. I'll send it over to you now." Keith drew the hard drive from his belt, inserting the small disc into a slit located to his right. He pressed a few buttons, transferring the information on the disc to the Castle, then looked back at Shiro. "As for Lance, well… we may have underestimated the number of Galra drones at the hangar. After we got the drive, we were ambushed. Lance and I were able to handle them, but a group of them attacked him, head on, while I went after the general. He did something to his shoulder… I don't know. It's pretty bad. He's out cold right now in the cabin. I gave him some medicine to help with the pain, but I don't know how long it will last." Keith shook his head.

"I'm going to give him a cast, once he wakes up, but he's not going to be able to heal properly until we can get him into one of the pods. How soon can you wormhole us back to the Castle?"

"Yeah, um, about that… the teledov broke. Again," Shiro closed his eyes, clearly frustrated.

 _He has way too much on his plate,_ Keith thought.

"Coran is trying to fix it, but he says it's gonna be a… spicolian movement until it's functional again."

"What the fuck is a spicolian movement?"

"A week, I think," Shiro narrowed his eyes, shaking his head again. "I don't know. I still can't figure out some of this Altean stuff. But, long story short, it's gonna be quite a few days until we can get you back here."

"Well, that's great," Keith said, annoyed. He crossed his arms. Usually, when this sort of thing happened, Keith could just fly his lion back to the Castle. Even though it may take a couple days, he could handle it. But this time, the Castle of Lions was thousands of galaxies away, on the other fucking side of the known universe. It would take months, maybe even _years_ , to reach it at the speed the lions could go.

"I'm sorry, Keith."

"Why? It's not your fault," Keith huffed. He ran a hand through his hair. It was getting longer; his dark bangs almost entirely covered his right eye. He clenched his fist, making the ebony tangles stand up on end. "Really, it's fine. I think there are a few inhabited worlds in this sector. We can go to one of those and see if they can give Lance better medical care than I can."

"Alright, then. Sounds like a plan," Shiro said. He smiled. "You guys will be alright. You're a good team."

Keith rolled his eyes. "We are not."

Shiro smirked. "Uh huh. Stay safe out there, alright? No dying allowed."

"Yes, sir," Keith agreed, shooting Shiro a mock salute.

The video cut out, returning the stars back to Keith's vision. He inhaled, then exhaled.

 _Shiro and his jokes,_ Keith thought, rolling his eyes again at his brother's comment. What did he know about Keith and Lance? They could barely make it an hour without arguing or trying to kill each other. Why Shiro had paired them up for this mission, Keith had no idea.

Continuing to curse at Shiro silently, Keith pulled up a map of the galaxy they were currently traveling through. He input their coordinates into the navigator with the keyboard located on his left. The computer buzzed, bringing up the results on the screen in front of the boy. The closest habitable planet was Lazor. Never heard of that before, Keith thought. Then again, he hadn't heard of 99% of the planets that he and the paladins had traveled to. Hadn't even know they had _existed_.

Lazor seemed like a peaceful place. Rolling orange hills and oceans of deep purple and blue, swirling with creatures of various kinds. Its main civilization was highly advanced, according to the database, having made large advances in astrological and… _bingo_. Medical sciences.

And it wasn't occupied by the Galra. _Double bingo._

Suddenly, the doors to the cockpit slid open. Keith whirled around, startled. There, leaning against the doorframe, was Lance. His chestnut hair was disheveled and matted, and he had a large cowlick sticking up on the back of his head. Deep violet circles were ingrained into the coppery skin below his eyes. His eyelids drooped down, halfway covering his dark irises. There was a large, black bruise under his right ear, already turning a sickly greenish yellow around the edges.

Keith had taken off Lance's armour before putting him into bed, so he just had his under armour on: a black turtleneck and black leggings. The skin tight clothing made him look even more gangly and lean than he already was. His boots were charred and covered in white ash, which was now speckled across the floor.

Lance smirked at Keith, goofy and dazed.

"You're sitting in my chair," he said, slurring his words slightly. His smirk turned into a lopsided grin.

Keith's eyebrows flew up into his forehead, making his violet eyes the size of saucers.

"What the hell are you doing up?!" Keith exclaimed, rocketing out of his chair. "You should be resting!"

"I don't need to rest," Lance said, shaking his head like a dog. "No, no, no. No sir. I am dandy. Absolutely perfect. Pick of the crop, at the top!" He giggled. "Hey, that rhymes!"

"You're clearly delusional," Keith said, exasperated. He walking over to the boy, sticking his face up towards his. "You need rest."

"I already rested," Lance said. His eyelids drooped lower, and he swayed violently. Keith reached out, catching him in his arms.

"Come on, you fucking idiot," Keith said, clearly concerned despite the rolling of his eyes. For the second time in less than 24 hours, he looped his arm around Lance's body, letting the boy fall into his shoulder. They exited the cockpit, making their way towards the cabin.

"Seriously, what the hell were you thinking?!" Keith said, as he pressed the entrance pad near the bedroom. The doors opened, squealing on their tracks. "You are so dumb."

"Hey! I am not dumb," Lance protested. He tried pushing Keith away, momentarily standing on his own accord. Then his eyes rolled back into his head, and he leaned back on the other boy for support. Keith led Lance to his bed: a simple metal frame with a hard mattress and pearly white bed linens. Strewn at the foot of the bed were Lance's street clothes, which consisted of an olive green canvas jacket with bright orange armbands, a slate coloured shirt with navy sleeves, battered blue jeans, and worn out high-top sneakers.

Lance sat down at the edge of the bed, supporting his head with his long, tapered hands. Keith stood near him for a moment, checking to make sure he wasn't going to pass out again. Then he went to the wall, unlocking the small door that housed the medical supplies. He pulled out the white box with the red cross on it, and then went back to the bed, plopping himself next to Lance. He placed the box next to him and opened it, taking out a bottle of disinfecting solution, some wipes, gauze, and plaster strips. He got up again, walking over the small tin sink at the far side of the room. Grabbing a small metal bowl from a shelf above him, he turned on the faucet, waiting until the water ran at a decent temperature. The water splashed into the bowl, spluttering and spitting as the faucet turned off. Keith took the bowl and sat down beside Lance again, arranging all the supplies on the bed.

Lance turned to look at him. His eyes were brighter now; the glazed look that he had had in the cockpit had faded. It seemed that sitting down had helped with the pain-or, at least, had made him less likely to pass out.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to give you a cast," Keith said. He turned to look at the boy. "I don't know exactly what's wrong with your shoulder, but whatever it is, it's bad. I'm guessing some sort of break. I figure, until we can get you medical help, I might as well give you a little bit of protection."

"What about the team?"

"The teledov is broken again, so it's going to be awhile until we can get back to the Castle. There's a planet near by-12 hours, at most, away from where we are now. We're going to get you healed properly there."

"Alright," Lance said, turning to look at his lap. He was tired, and it was starting to show. Being unconscious doesn't mean a good night's sleep.

A moment of silence passed between them. Nervous, fidgety silence.

Lance turned back to Keith, and asked, "So, how does this work? I've never broken a bone before."

"Well," Keith said. He picked up the wipes and the disinfecting fluids, turning them both in his hands. "Since the break is somewhere near your shoulder, I'm going to need to put the cast all the way up your arm. So…" Keith exhaled, his face turning pink. "So I'm going to need to you to take off your shirt."

"What?!"

"I can't put on the cast over your damn shirt! Jesus Christ!"

"Fine, fine," Lance muttered. His face was tinged pink. He grabbed the hems of his shirt, wincing as he pulled it over his head. He threw it onto the floor with his good arm, then kicked it with his foot.

Keith tried not to stare as Lance did this, blushing furiously. His skin was paler on his stomach, but still shone golden compared to the other boy's ivory white flesh. He was slightly muscular, his abdomen defined softly down to his navel. He looked thinner with his shirt on, but he was still very lean-Keith could see the stain of his ribs on the side of his chest and the tip of his pelvis right above the waistband of his pants. His collarbone stuck out thin and angular just below his neck, fading into his shoulders, which were wide and bony. His arms were highly toned, despite being so thin, and when he lowered them down from above his head Keith could see the muscles in his back shifting, clear cut and sharp, across his shoulder blades.

Lance caught him staring as he put his hand to his left shoulder, trying to comfort the injury. "What?"

"N-nothing," Keith stammered, turning his head down quickly. He opened up the disinfectant bottle, popping off the cap. He watched as the clear, rancid liquid soaked through the cloth, leaving it damp and heavy in his hand.

"Give me your arm."

Lance scooched closer to Keith, enough so that their knees touched. Quickly, Keith wiped off Lance's arm with the wipe. He tried to focus on being gentle, not hurting Lance. Not on how warm the boy was. Or how soft his skin felt. Or how his muscles rippled beneath his fingertips.

Keith picked up the gauze, bending Lance's arm and wrapping the material from his hand all the way up to his shoulder. Then he grabbed the plaster strips, placing them in the water. After they had soaked for a moment, he plucked them from the bowl and started wrapping them around Lance's arm, in the same direction as the gauze. They were thick and starchy against his fingertips, and a thin white film was left across his palms from where they touched.

It took only a few minutes to complete the process, and only a few more for the cast to set up, becoming heavy on Lance's arm like a cinder block. Keith put the supplies back into the plastic case, trying not to look at Lance or his bare chest. He stood up and walked over to the small compartment, putting the first aid kit back in its rightful place, and then rinsed out the small bowl in the sink. He watched as the stained, milky water swirled down the drain, making a gurgling noise as it went.

Keith turned around, facing his counterpart. He sighed.

"Okay-the cast should be completely hardened by now. Don't get it wet, and tomorrow, once we get to Lazor, you'll be able to take it off."

"Thank Voltron," Lance said, moving his arm in a robotic fashion. "This thing is fucking heavy."

Keith smirked. "I can't believe this is the first time you've broken a bone. You can barely walk on two feet."

Lance smiled, unable to find the energy to come up with a suitable comeback. He was still delirious from the pain. On top of that, Keith had given him some sort of medication, and the effects still hadn't worn off yet.

"I guess I'm just lucky."

They smiled at each other for maybe a moment too long. Lance looked away, clearing his throat. His face was red.

An awkward silence rested between them, spanning for several moments.

Keith coughed, shifting his weight and crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, I-I guess I should, uh, go." He started walking towards the door. "You need to rest."

"Yeah, yeah," Lance said, rolling his eyes. He flopped down onto the bed, propping his left arm up on a pillow. He situated himself, resting on his back with his head turned towards the ceiling.

 _Well, he's certainly getting back to his old smartass self,_ Keith thought, sighing internally. _That didn't take long._

The boy started to leave. Right before he crossed the threshold, he paused, teetering. For what reason, he didn't know. He shook his head.

Before he could close the door, a voice called out to him.

"Keith?"

"Yeah?" Keith said, turning back around. Lance was propped up on his good arm. His violet tinted bangs fell across his eyes, messy and feathered.

"Uh...thanks. I mean, thank you, for… you know," he gestured towards his cast, flicking his right wrist.

"No problem," Keith said, softly, smiling faintly in the other boy's direction. "Sleep well."

Lance blushed. "Thanks… you too."

Keith turned away, leaving the cabin. He pressed his hand to the control panel, and closed the door.


End file.
